


scheduled interruption

by gummies



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Desk Sex, Kink Meme, M/M, Pregnancy Kink, Trans Male Character, Transgender Author, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, and the brief appearance of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22374751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummies/pseuds/gummies
Summary: “Would you stop that?”“Stop what?” asked Peter, voice pleasant as always. His hand twitched where it was snaking up Elias’ thigh, rough fingers digging in through the leg of his trousers.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 9
Kudos: 415
Collections: Rusty Kink





	scheduled interruption

**Author's Note:**

> hope i'm doing this right... this is a fill for a prompt on the kink meme (https://rusty-kink.dreamwidth.org/1380.html?thread=288612#cmt288612). one of the main focuses of the prompt ended up being a lot less prominent than originally intended, but i guess that's what happens when you try to write for a kink you don't have. shrugs. 
> 
> oh, also! content warning for traditionally feminine terms being used for elias' stuff (by peter, not the narrative text), but no actual transphobia.

“Would you _stop_ that?”

“Stop what?” asked Peter, voice pleasant as always. His hand twitched where it was snaking up Elias’ thigh, rough fingers digging in through the leg of his trousers. 

Elias was perched on Peter’s lap, though not of his own volition. There just weren't a lot of places to _do_ these things, since Peter insisted so inconveniently on quarantining their little… encounters to Elias’ place of work. Maybe it was to keep it as impersonal as possible- a valiant, if misguided effort, considering just how long Elias had spent fine-tuning the Institute to his needs. Maybe there was something to the isolation of it all that drew Peter in. The high ceilings, the sprawling, empty corridors, the endless waiting rooms, and the thick silence of detached professionalism that clung to it. 

Maybe he was still trying to get one of Elias’ employees to walk in on them. Not that they’d see much of _Peter,_ besides where he’d left Elias with his pants down. 

Whatever the reason, it left little space to sit besides Elias’ chair. It was a nice thing, old, polished oak with patterned armrests and a cushion. It was much more imposing than the little metal one sat across the desk, and considerably more spacious- which was important for the task at hand. 

Peter Lukas wasn’t a huge man by any means. But Elias was even less so, and loathe as he was to admit it, their current position was far favorable to the alternative. Which he had insisted upon at first, still clinging to the last vestiges of James Wright’s dignity as an average-sized man. The experience had been less than optimal. If Elias had wanted to be crushed, he would’ve bedded down with an avatar of the Buried.

“ _That_.” snapped Elias, snatching Peter’s other hand, which had been steadily dipping beneath Elias’ waistband from where it had initially cradled the small of his back. Like if it moved slow enough, he wouldn’t notice.

Peter had the audacity to look put-out as he yanked his own hand back. It was a good look on him, all things considered. The furrow of his brow and the petulant, downward curl of his lip went well with the rest of his beginningly disheveled state. The faint flush that’d caught on his pale face, the slight heave of his chest, even the sorry state of his salt-and-pepper hair, tangled around Elias’ fist. It was all very handsome. Not that Elias would ever tell _him_ that.

“ _Why_?” Peter demanded petulantly. “Honestly, Elias. We may not all still be as spritely as _some_ are, but you of all people should know how little that means. Or do I need to remind you?” Peter’s hand reached for Elias’ belt, and he slapped it away. 

“Don’t whine so much, Peter. It’s unbecoming of a grown man.” He tugged the fist he’d laced in Peter’s hair, relishing in the wince it got him. “Or do I need to remind _you_ of how to respect your elders?” 

Peter scoffed. “I wish you would!”

Elias raised one manicured eyebrow. “Lonely, are we?”

“If only.” said Peter, hand coming back to rest over the seat of Elias’ dress pants. It was strange, how familiar it all felt, and yet how _new_ at the same time. He could recall the feelings- Peter’s hands, in particular. Calloused, cold, and prone to inappropriate groping. They’d certainly never felt this _bi_ _g,_ however. His own hands- Elias Bouchard’s hands- were noticeably smaller in comparison. “This all has a careful way of working, you know.”

“Does it now?” Elias answered dryly.

“Yes!” continued Peter. “You’d think that by now you’d have a better grasp of all these things.”

“You’d think.” said Elias, bringing up his free hand to check his watch.

“It isn’t just the isolation of it all that matters, it’s the choice of it. An empty room isn’t going to do much for Forsaken on its own, see, it’s the person inside of it. It’s looking out through the window and watching the world go by without you.”

“Hm.”

“Sitting and stewing in it. Letting it _seep_ into you, consume you, until- are you even paying attention? ”

“Unfortunately.” said Elias, shifting. Peter was hard under him, had remained so throughout his little spiel. Had probably gotten moreso. 

Peter sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand. Well, the point is, no, I am _not_ feeling lonely, Elias, despite my best efforts. Not as lonely as I _could_ be. You knowI don’t rely on physical isolation- not entirely, at least. I’m not an amatuer. Which is why we have this little arrangement in the first place, mind you! And I’d be keen to get _on_ with things.”

It was Elias’ turn to sigh. “Peter, we’ve had this conversation. I’m _busy._ Do you have any idea whatsoever how much this role requires of me? Even the more mundane aspects. You may be able to disappear whenever the fancy hits you, but I have obligations. And along with everything else, the Unknowing is rightaround the corner and Gertrude is being as erratic as ever- excuse me for not having time to _fuck_ on a whim.”

“Oh, come off it! That’s never stopped you before.” Peter said, leaning over Elias. He hooked an ankle under one of the chair’s legs and scooted it forward, trapping Elias between him and the desk. Elias felt his back bump into a stack of papers as he leaned away and hissed, watching them scatter to the floor in a pile. Before he could speak, Peter opened his mouth once again.

“You do have a point, though.” he said, voice shifting to a coo. “You have been rather busy lately, haven’t you?” He clicked his tongue, moving the hand on Elias’ thigh up to his shoulder, pressing in _hard_ at the knotted muscle. Elias felt his eyes flutter closed against his will, shivering at spike of relief that shot down his back. 

Peter chuckled. “Always the workaholic. Always so in control. It must get to be a tad much after, what, a few centuries? Think of all the good a break would do you! Stress-relief, you could call it. Like a massage! Have you ever gotten a massage? You have to’ve, at some point. Anyways, just lean back and let me help you relax.”

“I-” Elias swallowed, throat dry. His motive may have been rather clear, but Peter wasn’t _wrong_. Things had been escalating, lately, and it was starting to feel like all of his time was devoted to cleaning up after Gertrude’s latest warpaths, making contact, making _payments-_ which the Institute really couldn’t afford at the moment, so then he’d be taking _loans._ It was a headache, really. Elias usually enjoyed paperwork. He was good at it, of course, but there was something methodical about it, satisfying. There was, however, nothing satisfying about explaining to the London police force why they’d tracked several tons of explosives being sent to the Institute through the post.

Peter’s left hand joined his right, sinking his fingers into the sensitive flesh on either side of Elias’ neck. It felt unfairly good.

“You’ll forgive me if I, ah, I struggle to believe that.” Elias managed, trying to breathe steadily. 

Peter sighed exaggeratedly. “I suppose that’s fair. I’ll admit, I have been a bit handsy, haven’t I? If I’ve seemed over-eager, it’s only because I’m so excited to see this... _new you_. You can understand that, can’t you? You know how I love blondes.”

Elias did know. It was miniscule, and entirely petty, but he’d be lying if he said that that hadn’t played a part in his choice. A very, very small part, but a part nonetheless. _That_ wasn't what he was concerned about.

Peter's thumb pressed in behind his neck and Elias stifled a gasp. It felt wonderful. Dear God, he must've been truly desperate. Maybe he _did_ need to consider booking a spa trip.

"Hm." hummed Peter. "You know, Elias, when I first got back and you were acting all coy, I thought you were trying to... draw things out. Build the anticipation a little! After all, one only gets so many first times. How many has it been, anyways? Can't've been too many, with your timeline."

"Hng-" Peter's hand was crawling up Elias's neck, hard. It hurt in all the right ways, drawing the soreness out and loosening something wound up tight inside of him.

"Where was I? Oh, yes- and then you just kept at it! Being all… _coquettish_." Peter said the word like it tasted sour in his mouth. "I started to get the idea you'd finally seen the appeal! That you might be trying your hand at giving me a little gift. Sending me off to the sea unsated, with nothing to fuel all those fantasies but my own imagination. Building it up. And just when they'd reach their peak, I'd get back, and it would be so _disappointing_ how the real thing paled in comparison, leaving us both all cold and aching." The near-reverence in his voice was somewhere between amusing and appallingly pitiful.

Peter's grip grew much harder, and Elias had the sudden feeling of a cat being grabbed by the scruff. His eyes snapped open in annoyance.

“But then I _did_ get back, and you haven’t let me get my hands on you!”

“Mph, ah, yes, and what would you call all this, then?” spit Elias, eyes narrowed.

“Properly, I mean! Still haven’t. It’s been very frustrating, I’m sure you know.” Peter chuckled, pressing himself harder against Elias. Elias felt a jump in his stomach as Peter’s clothed cock ground against his backside, and he was suddenly aware of just how pinned he was. Not that he couldn’t get out of it, if he really needed to- his pager was just within arm’s reach from where he was propped up on his elbow, sitting undisturbed at the desk’s corner. But there was always something so tantalizing about being held down. It probably _was_ the control aspect of it- something about the anxiety at losing the upper hand, if only physically. There was such a thin line between fear and arousal, after all. 

“Well, you can’t, can you? You can guess, though, certainly. I’m starting to get a few guesses of my own! Would you like to know what I think, Elias?”

“Is that the impression I’ve given?” asked Elias.

Peter leaned in further. This close, Elias could feel the cold puff of Peter’s breath against his mouth. He restrained himself from licking his lips.

“I think you’re _shy_.” said Peter. 

“Could it not be that I’ve just tired of your company? I do like to keep things interesting, after all.” retorted Elias immediately. He twisted his nails against Peter’s scalp, drawing a low groan from the other man. Peter jutted his hips forward, grinding himself against Elias, _hard_. Elias felt a pulse of warmth in his stomach, pooling just above where his hips splayed open around Peter’s middle. 

“Hmph- you’d certainly be giving a lesser man that impression!” panted Peter, hand straying dangerously close to the crotch of Elias’ trousers. Anticipation thrummed through him, and Elias clenched his jaw but said nothing, which Peter seemed to take as confirmation of some sort. “That nervous, hm? Worried I won’t like the new you? It was a rather drastic change- bit of a surprise, coming back and seeing you’d lost, what, three decades? How old is this one, anyways?”

“Twenty-six,” Elias spouted instantly, “twenty-seven in December.”

“ _Christ_.” 

“I’ve told you- he was best suited for the position out of everyone that I’d considered. No friends, estranged from his family beyond their checkbooks. Age doesn’t tend to be much of a consideration, although it does get troublesome to have to leave a host just once I’ve gotten settled down. I took Jame Wright at about the same age.”

“Still.” said Peter, moving his hovering hand to gesture between them. Elias let out a breath he almost hadn’t noticed he was holding. “You’re making me feel like an, ah, what do they call it, these days?”

“Sponsor? Patron?” offered Elias.

“No, ah, more juvenile.”

“Sugar daddy?” He asked, eyebrows receding beyond his hairline. Peter cringed, and Elias laughed. It had been a bit of an issue, while the change was still in process. Elias was considerably younger than most of those who’d thought themselves in line for James’ succession, and it had come up more times than convenient. Elias had begun to consider dying some of his hair gray.

“ _Eugh_. Yes, that’s the one. Anyways! As I was saying, you really have nothing to act so blushed about. And if you do, I’ll be fucking you anyways, so best get it out now.”

“That’s what’ll be happening, is it?” Elias said coolly, resolutely ignoring the way his stomach swooped at Peter’s words. Peter huffed, posture sharpening, as if he expected to have to wrestle Elias into submission. 

“ _Yes_ , it is.” he said sternly, like he was chiding a member of his crew. “These little sessions of ours take enough out of me already, and this one isn’t going to end without venting some steam.”

“And here I thought I was supposed to be the one letting out stress.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will be. Do you have any idea how frustrated I’ve been?” Peter began roughly undoing Elias’ tie as he spoke, tossing it loosely onto the desk behind him. Elias’ breath hitched as Peter began working at the buttons of his shirt.

“I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough. Bothering with foreplay, are we?”

“I told you,” said Peter, “I want to see what I’m working with... _ugh_ \- take off your tank top.” 

Peter had finished down the line of buttons, tugging the shirt off as Elias shrugged out of the sleeves. His fingers had fallen instantly to the fabric underneath, hooking under the hem and trying to pull it up, growing irritated when it didn’t work. 

“It’s not a tank top.” Elias responded simply, making no move to assist. The air was pleasantly cool on his shoulders, but breathing was beginning to feel somewhat difficult. 

“What is it, then?” Peter asked, rolling his eyes. He shifted, both hands coming to Elias’ sides as he continued grappling with it.

“A binder, Peter.” Elias said, brushing away a strand of hair that had stuck to the sweat on his face. It really was starting to feel rather hot in here.

Peter’s expression turned from irritated to confused, to leering.

“That’s what you were so skittish about, then? I don’t see what you’d think you needed to corset yourself up for, James was much softer around the middle.”

Elias sighed, tone resembling that of a schoolteacher explaining a basic subject to a small child. “It isn’t _for_ the middle, Peter.” 

Peter’s expression turned confused once more, brow furrowed. There was a long silence, during which Elias could practically _hear_ the cogs turning. He didn’t need his powers to know exactly what was going through Peter’s head. It was a little amusing- that was, it would’ve been, if it weren’t for the situation surrounding it. As it was, Elias was still struggling not to pant.

“Isn’t- I thought Elias was a man?” Peter said, looking pleasingly uncertain. His eyes flickered between Elias’ eyes and chest. Predictably, they stopped on his chest. Elias suddenly felt very eager to strip.

“He _was_. He was also, ah, hm, what’s the term. ‘Assigned female’, I believe. Honestly, Peter. Is this really another modern marvel you need me to explain to you, or do you think you can figure it out?”

Elias leveled Peter with the most unimpressed look he could manage. Which, despite the circumstances, was still quite unimpressed. He was considering throwing another pointed glance at his watch when he felt Peter’s cock twitch underneath him. 

Realization seemed to dawn on the other man, and the look he flashed Elias was somewhere between excited and scandalised.

“I think I’ll manage. _Really_ , Elias?” he laughed, voice low. “Alright then, come on, get this off! Let me see them.” he punctuated his words with another sharp pull.

Elias shifted forwards and struggled out of his binder, sighing with relief as it finally slipped off. He let it fall to the floor with his shirt, Peter whistling as it went. He shivered in the abrupt shift in temperature, skin prickling. It was… a strange feeling. He certainly hadn’t felt this _exposed_ last time he was with Peter, and he let himself revel in it. It was such a rare treat, being bared and vulnerable, someone’s eyes _raking_ over his body. He felt like he was being eaten alive.

In a moment, both of Peter’s hands had surged forward to grope at Elias’ chest, and _oh._ That was a new sensation.

Peter’s hands were freezing, and Elias pushed down another shiver at the touch. He took a shaky breath, eyes falling shut and immediately snapping back open, trained on the sight of his nipples stiffening where his chest spilled out from between Peter’s fingers. Peter was saying something, but Elias was having trouble processing it all, too focused on cataloguing away every detail of the experience. 

“-can’t _believe_ you’ve been holding out on me for this long. God, but you’re eager. Have you even touched them yet? I bet you haven’t.” Peter said, taking a nipple between his thumb and forefinger to _squeeze_. Elias jerked ineffectually backwards, head thumping against the desk. “That’s a no, then, I’ll take it.”

Peter released Elias’ nipple, only to rub the rough callous of his thumb down onto it as the blood rushed back in. Elias bit back a groan, face flushing. The feeling was, Elias imagined, akin to that of sandpaper.

“They’re a bit on the small side, but I suppose that’s for the best. Wouldn’t want them getting in the way, hm?” said Peter, weighing one of Elias’ breasts in the palm of his hand before pushing them together. “Still enough for a good handful. I could probably fuck these, if we tried hard enough. How would you like that, my cock between your tits? I’m sure you’d enjoy the view.”

“That’s all? Creative, I’ll admit, but I was- _mph_! Expecting something more from you.” Elias said through gritted teeth. Peter was still playing with his nipples- rolling them between the pads of his fingers and scraping his nails across them. Elias couldn’t help but squirm, fruitlessly seeking relief from the touch. He brought his hands up to grab at Peter’s shoulders, grunting as Peter _twisted_. 

Peter tipped forward, catching Elias’ open mouth with his own. His lips were like ice, so cold Elias could nearly see the puff of his breath between them. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping out of his mouth and into Peter’s. It was, altogether, not entirely unpleasant. A little messy, but what Peter lacked in technique he made up for in enthusiasm, breaking the kiss to take Elias’ bottom lip between his teeth and _bite._ Elias thrust his hand back into the other man’s hair, yanking him back. Peter’s teeth dragged across Elias’ lip as he pulled him off, leaving it throbbing.

Peter sneered through his panting, giving Elias’ nipples one last, cruel pinch before letting go. They _ached_. One hand reached for Elias’ belt, the other falling between his spread thighs to palm at his crotch. Elias could feel how wet his briefs had gotten, the fabric rubbing slickly against his folds as he thrust his hips into Peter’s hand.

“Oh, I’m just getting ideas for later. Don’t worry, I can see how desperate you are to get fucked. Is this new as well, or have I just never noticed what a slut you are?”

“Neither, I’m afraid,” Elias frowned through the haze, “as I can distinctly recall you saying as much during our last encounter. And the last before that. One can only be called something _so_ many times before it begins to lose meaning, you know.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to come up with something else. How does ‘whore’ suit you?” asked Peter, eyes glittering.

“About the same, unfortunately. You really are quite repetitive.”

“Hm. ‘Harlot’?”

“So you _are_ interested in accentuating our age difference.”

“Only if it involves a cane.” Peter grinned. “I just thought that one might appeal to those rich, Victorian sensibilities of yours! Send you back to the good old days. Ah, but I guess I ought to’ve known it wouldn’t, with this new look of yours. Well, everyone’s a critic. I’ll just have to try some out as we go. Speaking of which-”

Peter abruptly relinquished his hold, scooting the chair backwards and pushing Elias out of his lap. Elias stumbled, catching himself by the handle of a drawer. He had no time to get his bearings, however. Peter took him harshly by the waist, turning him to face the desk and bending him over it in one smooth motion. Elias let out a hiss as the wood brushed his sore chest.

He tried to turn his head, but all he got was a glimpse before there was a hand wrenching his head down, smacking his forehead against the hard surface. Distantly, Elias heard his belt coming loose. Felt Peter’s hand tug his pants down, no care spared for his buttons. Elias began to protest, but was cut off by the smack of leather against his arse, loud and stinging. 

He jerked away, unable to repress a startled yelp. The hand on his head let him turn, and he glared at the sight- Peter bending over him, Elias’ belt rolled around his fist.

“ _Really_?”

Peter shrugged. “I thought you might prefer if I got the impulse out while you still had your knickers on.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t act on the impulse at all.” Elias muttered, but Peter ignored him. He instead discarded the belt to take hold of Elias' trousers, shoving them the rest of the way down around his ankles. Elias felt Peter’s hands travelling up his calves, the back of his thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. They settled on the swell of his backside, feeling him up tactlessly.

A knee slid between Elias’, spreading his thighs awkwardly. Then came one of the hands, moving forward to cup him through the fabric of his briefs. Elias’ breath hitched in his throat audibly.

“ _There_ we are. That’s the cock-hungry bitch I remember.” Peter paused, hand hovering over Elias’ waistband. Considering. “What do you think of that one? Bitch?”

Elias huffed into the crook of his arm. “M-must I _truly_ remind you of the task at ha-”

Peter flattened his palm and ground it into Elias’ clit through the cloth. Elias cut himself off to groan, thrusting his hips forward. 

“Now,” Peter scolded, “if you aren’t going to contribute, you might as well just pipe down. _Bitch_. Hm, yes, I rather like the sound of that! Makes me feel all... _domineering_ and such. Is that what you’d like, do you think? Would a firm hand do you some good, Elias?” 

“Judging by the bruises, I’d say _no_.” said Elias.

“Aw. Oh well, I’ve got something else even firmer I think you’ll enjoy.” Peter chuckled. The drag of a zipper was deafening against their quick, quiet breaths. Peter slotted their hips together, something hard and heavy pressing against Elias. He swallowed, throat dry with anticipation. A hand hooked itself into his underwear, forcing them down unceremoniously.

Elias tensed, once again suddenly overcome by the sense of exposure. Of being seen, and, for once, unable to see back. Peter was looking at him- obviously. But Elias could _feel_ his gaze, cold and hungry, on him. It was like frostbite- searing, chilling. It was like a scalpel, flaying him alive and bringing his weakest parts into the open. 

It wasn’t particularly objective, but no one was perfect.

Elias threw his head back, moaning. He tried to squeeze his legs together- whether for friction or decency, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter much, considering how quickly Peter’s hands were between them, digging into the muscle of his thighs and _spreading_ him lewdly. Elias felt his lips part with the motion and flushed.

“ _You’re dripping._ ” Peter said, and Elias could tell from the direction of his voice that he was leaning in to get a better look. He felt like an insect pinned to a case.

“Th-that is what happens, yes.” Elias responded, voice too breathy to quite hit the level of irritation he’d aimed for. 

A finger brushed along his slit, feather-light, before shoving into him without warning. 

It was new, and it was _strange_. Not as rewarding as he was perhaps hoping, but not entirely unpleasant, either. He was wet enough that it didn’t hurt, though there was something pleasingly invasive about the whole thing. Like Peter was rummaging around in Elias’ exposed organs, but without all the blood. For now, at least.

Peter’s finger twisted around inside him, and Elias shifted uncomfortably. Another slid in alongside it, scissoring open and closed. 

“Now, aren’t you taking to this well! Bit of a slag, this one, wasn’t he? Or maybe you’re just not used to having your pussy played with. What’s it like? The shorts must fit something odd.” Peter chuckled, fingers rubbing almost curiously along Elias’ walls. “Though you didn’t have much to begin with, you must admit.”

“And how would you know that? B-been to the panopticon while my back was turned?” Elias asked. Peter made a sound of disgust behind him.

“Okay, not to _begin with_. I’m sure you were hung like a stallion. Doesn’t mean much right now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Hard to notice what you’re not touching.” Elias hissed as Peter’s fingers withdrew entirely, coming out with a wet noise. Elias was left feeling startlingly hollow, like Peter had taken something more with him.

“Oh, that’s right! Apologies, Elias, I must seem something rude. It’s just so easy to forget about what you can’t see, you understand.”

“Of course. I forget about you, for instance, more often than not.”

Peter gasped in mock offense, teasing the tips of his fingers into Elias’ opening but not pushing back in. “You wound me! All these years, and that’s all I am to you, a warm body?”

“If only. I’m starting to consider the appeal of a heated blanket.”

“Really? Did you know some people use those things to simulate human contact? Something about the pressure, I think, and the temperature. Maybe I _should_ get you one. Put it on you before I leave, so you can finally live out that afterglow.”

Elias smiled into his arm. “Oh, Peter, you know I don’t have time for that. _But_ , if you’re getting the urge to spend money, there should be a few depositing forms in the drawer to your left-”

“Ugh- can you stop trying to take my money for five minutes?”

“Five minutes?” chuckled Elias, “Don’t push yourself on my account!”

“ _Bloody hell_. Alright, that’s enough of that.” Peter said, finally drawing away. There was the shuffling of cloth and Elias braced himself, forehead resting against the table, trying to reign in his nerves. But nothing came. Instead, he heard the slick sound of skin against skin, undercut by Peter groaning. 

Elias jerked his head back and, sure enough, Peter had himself in hand. His cock was thick and flushed, jutting out from Peter’s hastily unbuttoned trousers. There was a thin sheen of wetness over it, Elias realized with a pang of arousal. Peter was looking down at him from half-shut eyes.

“Remember this?” he asked, stroking his cock. “Must seem bigger than the last time you saw it, since you’ve nothing to compare it to anymore.”

Elias sent him a considering look. "Hm. Smaller, actually. Perhaps I've been giving you too much credit?"

Peter scoffed. "You're one to talk! What's your count now? An inch? Two centimetres?"

Peter leaned back in, guiding his cock between Elias' spread legs. One hand squeezed its way between Elias and the desk, cold fingers trailing across his lips. Elias gasped as they reached his clit, pushing back the hood with a thumb.

It was another not-quite-but-nearly-familiar feeling, bringing back the memory of Peter’s hand on James’ cock. It was different, though- not… better, but more intense. Less like being jerked off and more like an open wound being prodded. He rutted against Peter’s hand all the same, hips moving with a new instinct, and _oh_. There it was. That hot flash of pleasure, coiling deep in his abdomen.

“Oh, that’s _adorable_.” Peter cooed, “Look at that little thing. Barely the size of a cockhead. You hiding a real prick somewhere in there?” Elias nearly shouted as Peter’s grip turned harsh, squeezing Elias’ clit with two fingers and _tugging_. “Guess not. Good thing you’ve got such a greedy cunt on you, because you’re certainly not fucking anyone anytime soon. A real bitch in heat, aren’t you?”

Elias trembled against the storm of sensation, nails digging into the wood of his desk in a desperate attempt to ground himself. The contact was beyond overwhelming, yet he couldn’t stop himself from seeking it out. Was this what it would be like from now on? Good God.

Peter went uncharacteristically quiet. Elias savored the silence, grinding himself into the icy pressure against his clit.

“You thought about that yet?” Peter said eventually. It took an embarrassing moment for Elias to realise he was being asked a question.

“Y-you’re going to have to, to be more specific.” Elias grunted between pants. He could feel his own dampness beginning to run down one of his legs. 

The hand moved away and Elias sighed in irritation, hips stuttering to a stop. Three fingers slipped into him all at once. They went deeper than previously, not stopping until Peter’s broad knuckles brushed Elias’ entrance, tips grazing his _other_ entrance.

“Getting knocked up.” Peter answered simply.

Elias paused, finding himself caught in a rare moment of genuine bewilderment, “ _Pardon_?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it!” Peter said, thrusting his fingers roughly.

“How on _earth_ would that benefit me?” asked Elias, twisting his neck to shoot Peter a baffled look.

“Save you the trouble of finding another poor sod to possess, for one.” argued Peter. “And you’d finally have an excuse for those nesting instincts of yours.”

“I do _not_ have-”

“Probably make your tits bigger, too. All plump and swollen. They might even need to be milked! That’d give me something to do with my hands, since you haven’t much in the way of love handles anymore.”

“How long has this been on your mind?” Elias demanded, more curious than scandalised. Peter shrugged.

"Is a man not allowed to have a fantasy?"

"So, it _is_ a fantasy. Tell me, what do you think this originated from? It's almost certainly repressed familial desire, but which prospect would you say excites you the most? Continuing your family's cycle and inflicting the hardships of your youth onto another, or the projection of yourself onto the role of your own father?"

"How about you shutting up? Maybe I just think you'd look good in maternity wear." Peter countered. 

"Well, you're welcome to send me some," Elias laughed, leaning his head back down on the desk, "but do remember to include the receipts."

Peter twisted his palm so that the nail of his thumb dug into Elias' clit, and the only thing that stopped Elias from screaming was biting down on his own forearm. He tried to steady his breathing, shutting his eyes and cataloguing the experiences that washed themselves over his body. Pain. Pleasure. They were getting harder to differentiate.

"Your legs are shaking." Peter observed helpfully. "I wasn't lying, though, I do think you'd look good. All… _round._ Your belly'd probably bounce when I fuck you. And maybe I'd let you suck me off afterwards, since your archivist wouldn't be the only one around here eating for two, anymore. I know you love that, no matter how much you whine. If I didn't know any better, I'd think the Eye gave you a- well, _another_ pussy down your throat. That why you signed on? Fuel for your oral fixation?"

"You think _I'm_ the one with the fixation?" Elias choked out. There were bloody teeth marks on his wrist, but at least the throb of pain was something he expected, something he'd felt before.

"You'd even get child support!" exclaimed Peter. "Not that you need it, you bloody vampire."

"Well, in that case, go ahead." Elias responded flatly. 

"Careful now, don't sound too enthusiastic." Peter grumbled.

"Oh, Peter," began Elias, completely without inflection, "please get me pregnant. My womb is so terribly empty."

"Much like my bank account.” Peter huffed. “Well, only since you asked so nicely."

Peter pulled himself back to spread Elias' lips with one hand, the other bringing the tip of his cock flush between them to prod at his hole. That was the only warning he got before Peter surged forward, sliding home.

Elias held his breath, nails leaving little dents on the surface of his desk. It was _so_ much, so fast. Too much. Peter’s cock was thick and unyielding, filling him the way no fingers could prepare him for. And it just kept _coming_ , past the point of fullness, leaving Elias feeling stretched taut, and _still_ there was more. It had never felt like this before, not even the first time. 

Finally, Peter’s hips met Elias’ arse. He let out a shaky breath from between gritted teeth. Elias was sweating from exertion, chest heaving. A hand landed on the small of his back, petting him like one would an animal. He relaxed into it against his better judgement. The coolness of Peter’s palm was jarring but satisfying. Like a cold pack on a burn.

Then, just as Elias began to adjust, Peter rolled his hips and hit _something_ that left Elias limp on the desk, eyes rolling back in his head. Everything went white-hot and blurred at the edges, all the sensations bleeding together into one perfect, horrible, overwhelming mass. He was drowning in it, completely submerged. Elias tried to focus on something, anything, to ground him. He cast his gaze out, but nothing caught, and the thoughts and images slipped through his fingers like sand. The more he tried, the harder it became, only adding to the barrage on his senses. He let go.

When Elias resurfaced, Peter was fucking him hard and fast. He set a punishing pace, his hips hitting Elias’ hard enough to bruise, one hand slung around his waist. The other was back at his chest, kneading into one of his breasts like it was a stress ball. Elias heard moaning, and realised distantly that it was him.

He felt _loose_ , Peter’s cock plunging in and out of him mercilessly. Each time he bottomed out, he hit that _spot_ , and Elias saw stars. Every thrust pushed him back into overstimulation, giving him barely a second of clarity before it returned.

Elias didn’t know how long it went on. It couldn’t have been too long, but every second felt like a small eternity. He was beginning to forget there was anything _beyond_ it all when Peter stopped abruptly, fully sheathed, and ground into Elias. 

Something flooded into him, startlingly warm. Elias shuddered as Peter rode out his orgasm. 

He pulled out the second he finished, softening cock dragging out of Elias with a vulgar sound. Elias could feel come dripping out of him, leaking down his slit and joining the rest of the wetness between his legs. He sighed, listening to fluids fit the floor with a splatter. At least he could trust the cleaners to be discreet. 

Elias closed his eyes and caught his breath, awareness slowly returning to him in waves. He listened to the methodical tick of the clock in his office, slowly putting himself back together, piece by piece.

When Elias eventually hauled himself upright to access the situation of his clothes, he was alone. As expected. Elias wouldn’t be surprised if pillow talk would kill the man.

He sometimes wondered if Peter stuck around to watch him clean up. Unlikely, but possible.

Elias smiled to himself. Just as well.

In his desk, Elias’ phone wrung. Just on time. He opened the drawer with an unsteady hand, taking a deep breath before accepting the call.

“...Yes? Ah, this is he. Fine, thank you. Mhm. Yes. About three and a half months. Abdominal... no, no problems. Of course. I’ll be by next Sunday for the recovery check in. Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind, please give Dr. Ansley my thanks. Yes, I’m quite pleased with the results. Ha, yes, I suppose so. Hysterectomies aren’t exactly reversible, after all. But don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll regret it.”


End file.
